The prince immediately recognized the lady who had arrived on horseback. He hurried toward the spot where the horse had stopped. Poonguzhali followed him. The others, hesitating and uncertain, trailed behind at some distance.

The mute queen had already dismounted from her horse. She glanced anxiously at the group approaching from behind, then turned to Poonguzhali and conveyed something in the language of signs.

“Periyamma has seen something wondrous in the forest. She is calling us to come to that place!” Poonguzhali said.

The prince decided at once to go. He asked if the others could accompany them. The mute queen, after a moment’s thought, nodded her head in assent.

As they walked, everyone spoke in wonder about the horse she had ridden. How had this elderly lady come by such a magnificent, high-bred horse from Arabia? No armies had landed in this region recently; no wars had been fought. In that case, how could this horse have come into the possession of this woman?

We have seen a Chola ship run aground and half-buried near the mouth of the Thondaiman river. From there, the coast of Lanka curved and twisted away to the southeast. The sea often carved small and large lagoons into the land. It was from one such bay that the ship Vandiyathevan and the others had seen that morning had emerged and sailed out to sea.

Now, the mute queen led them toward the southeast, plunging into the dense forest. As they went, the prince’s curiosity grew—surely some significant event must have occurred; otherwise, this old woman would not have summoned them so far.

Suddenly, that very event appeared before their eyes!

There was a clearing in the forest. A water body came into view. On its bank lay several human corpses. The stench of death mingled with the dried scent of human blood. Even those seasoned by the experience of many battlefields— Lifeless human bodies and dried blood were not new experiences for these men. Yet, the thought that something extraordinary, mysterious, and terrifying had occurred here stirred both curiosity and revulsion in everyone’s hearts.

Upon closer inspection, it became clear that all the bodies lying there belonged to Tamil sailors.

“Hurry! Quickly—see if anyone is still alive!” the prince shouted.

Those who had come with him began to examine each body, one by one.

The mute queen once again gestured to the prince, beckoning him with her hand. She led him a little distance away from where the bodies lay, to the foot of a tree. There, a ghastly figure was sprawled on the ground. Though it was a man, it was hard to believe so at first glance. His body was covered in wounds. Blood from the gashes on his head had streamed down his face, making him look utterly terrifying. Every moment, he seemed to await death, yet upon seeing the prince, a faint sign of life flickered across his face. He tried to open his mouth and speak, but as his mouth too was filled with blood, his appearance became even more horrific.

The prince hurried to his side and sat down. “Quickly, bring water!” he shouted.

The man said, “No need, my prince! Just a moment ago, this lady gave me water. Had she not come at that time, my life would have already left me. Sir, I have already suffered here the consequences of coming to betray you. In the next world, God will not punish me again for this.”

The prince, recognizing his voice, looked closely at his face. “Ah! Kalapathi! (In those days, just as the commander of an army was called ‘Thalapathi,’ the captain of a ship was called ‘Kalapathi.’) What are you saying? How did all this happen? You came here to betray me? I cannot believe that!” he exclaimed.

“Sir, it is your noble nature that makes you say so. On the orders of the Pazhuvettaraiyars, I came to capture you and take you away. Here is the command!” he said, and from his lap, the dying Kalapathi took out a palm-leaf letter and handed it over.

The prince glanced over the letter in a second.

“What treachery is there in this? Weren’t you only carrying out the Emperor’s command? I learned of it and hurried here myself. How did such disasters occur in the meantime? Speak quickly,” he said.

“I must speak quickly indeed—otherwise, I may never get the chance to speak at all!” replied Kalapathi. Then, stumbling often over his words, he recounted the following tale.

Having received the Emperor’s order, Kalapathi set sail from Nagapattinam with two ships. He did not like this task, but he could not disobey the Emperor’s command, so he departed. Before he left, the Pazhuvettaraiyars had given him strict instructions. Upon reaching Lanka, he was to anchor the ships at a secluded spot and first ascertain the whereabouts of the Prince. Then, he was to meet the Prince in person and deliver the Emperor’s scroll. Under no circumstances was this news to reach the Commander-in-Chief, Kodumbalur Velar, before the Prince received the command. After handing over the order to the Prince, if the Prince agreed to come, well and good; if not, he was to be taken by force, even if it meant imprisoning him… So saying, the Pazhuvettaraiyars sent some of their trusted men along with Kalapathi.

Kalapathi set out with a heavy heart. Many of the sailors on his ship did not know the true purpose of their voyage to Lanka. This only increased his inner turmoil. He hesitated, unsure how to explain it to them. After anchoring the ships at the mouth of the Thondaiman River, Kalapathi, along with a few sailors, went to the port of Kangesan. He went there to inquire about the Prince’s whereabouts. At Kangesan port, he learned that the Prince was traveling in the interior of southern Lanka, and so he returned.

Before Kalapathi could return, the sailors had already learned the truth. After all, some of the